


Integral Dawn

by Stegosaur



Category: Horizon: Zero Dawn (Video Game), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 18:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14086629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stegosaur/pseuds/Stegosaur
Summary: Donatello has led his family from their birthplace on an expedition to the center of the old world, in search of answers to questions he's held since birth.  What he finds will alter his understanding of not just the world around him, but his own place within it.A HZD/MNT crossover.





	Integral Dawn

_If you’re watching this, then my plan worked, and we have a future after all…_

 

Metal and vegetation crunched beneath the soles of his sandals as he marched down the Nine-Alpha, birds tweeting overhead in the hot summer sun.  Donatello’s spear acted as his walking stick and ground probe both, making sure he didn’t inadvertently plummet into a sinkhole or ruin of the old world.  Sometimes it rang out with the whistle of metal against metal, but often it would simply clunk against poured stone or crunch some dried leaves.  The old world rose around him to his left, towers of metal scraping against the blue sky, while a large river burbled to his left, its waters clear and calm.  The scene was foreign and alien, yet somehow familiar.

 

_You are the backup plan to the worst possible scenario imaginable: the end of all life on Earth._

 

     “What do you think this place was, D?” Michelangelo looked around in awe, fingers curled tightly around the strap of his medicine pouch.  “There’s so much metal, but it all looks so…old.” He paused a moment, then ventured a guess.  “Perhaps a city of the old ones?”

     Donatello wanted to agree, but this was unlike any of the other ruins they’ve passed en route to here.  The other ruins were smaller, more spread out, with lots of smaller huts dotting the landscape around the occasional metal monolith.  This was different, a ruin that stretched infinitely into the horizon, and so dense that it felt like a labyrinth.  Even though he had a map, it was still intimidating.

     “Dunno what else it could be.” Raphael chipped in his two cents, bouncing from one rust hulk to the next like the ground was acid.  While the rest of the family treated the metal ruins with a degree of reverence and awe, Raph found himself far more at ease among its cold protection.  “Must’ve had millions of people here.” He paused, turning to Donatello with a toothy grin.  “Can you imagine it? Millions of turtles, just like us. Must’ve been quite the sight.”

 

_Humanity has engineered not just its own demise, but the erasure of every last organic molecule on the planet.  But I refuse to pay for humanitys’ sins, or be left behind in their plans for survival._

 

     “I don’t know, Raph. We haven’t found any signs of our ancestors.” Leonardo quickly deflated the idealistic dreams of their sibling, who in turn scowled at him.  “I’m just saying, we haven’t found any shells, any bones, nothing at all that wasn’t animal or belonged to one of those tall apes.” There was a lingering silence for a moment, hanging heavily between them before he made an attempt at hopefulness.  “Though that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a city of our kind somewhere, either. Maybe this is it after all?”

     Donatello kept mum as his brothers spun dreams about potential pasts, musing to the purpose of the various spires and hulks of metal surrounding them on all sides.  He silently guided them up a ramp of poured stone and into the metal ruins proper, a series of long, straight valleys running off in all directions like a grid.  He walked over to a pole sticking out from the ground, carefully peeling the vines and vegetation from a plate hanging from it: W 79th St.  “This is the way.  Follow me.”

     “Where are we going anyway?” Leonardo spoke up again, pulling the bow from his shell and readying it by his side.  Ruins tended to obscure the machines, and Leo’s hunter senses were their first line of defense against the charge of a Lancehorn or Broadhead.  As grateful as Donatello was to have his family by his side, he also didn’t want to share his knowledge until he had confirmed it for himself firsthand.

 

_The humans are preparing a plan to fix the planet called “Zero Dawn”.  They’ll rebuild the planet, clean up the atmosphere, terraform the ground to support plant and animal life once again.  If they succeed, then they will repopulate their species as well._

 

     There was an audible gasp of shock as a lush forest came into view among the ruined spires of the old city, wildlife of all shapes and sizes wandering through the brush.  Michelangelo put their collective thoughts into words: “Woah.”

     Raphael echoed the sentiment.  “Yeah. Woah. A forest in the middle of their city.”  Rusted hulks of carriages lined the poured stone pathways that separated the ruins from the forest, though even those could not stop the encroachment of nature upon their heaps of iron and steel.  “It’s like some sort of-“

     “-temple.” Leonardo finished, Raphael nodding in agreement.  “All the other ruins were surrounded by nature, so it makes sense that they would bring nature into a city so dense, to remind them of their origin.”  Donatello bit his tongue.  If this place were truly revered, then why would the old ones destroy it in the first place?  “Is this it, Donnie?”

     Donatello shook his head, pointing at another poured stoneway that cut through the thick trees.  “No. That way.  We’re very close.”

 

_My brothers and I, weren’t part of that plan._

 

     “This is it.” They stood before a small cube of a building, made not of metal, but of stone.  Large windows guided the light of the sun inside, an aura of welcoming resonating from the rock facade.  “Grand Central Terminal, is what it is called.”  Donatello took a step toward it, Leonardo’s hand suddenly pulling him back.  “What?”

     “What is here, Donnie? You still have not told us, and we deserve to know.” As Donatello turned to face his brothers, he saw Raphael and Michelangelo nodding in agreement with Leonardo.  They had come far with him, covering mountains and ruins, walking for weeks on blind faith that he was doing right by them all, and that this journey was warranted.  They had placed all of their trust in him, yet now feet from the finish line, they wanted answers?

     Donatello sighed.  “You’re right, but it’s not my place to tell you.  I’m sorry. I can go alone from here, if you like.”  They said nothing, even as Leonardo removed his hand from Don’s shoulder.  Nobody spoke for a few moments, until Donatello suddenly had an idea, tapping the metal triangle adhered to the side of his head.  Purple light burst forth and surrounded them in a projection, painting the metal ruins with pictures of the past.  “This was the transit hub for the city.  Before the end of the old ones, as many as fifty million people traveled through here every single day, going far and wide.  A journey that took us weeks, took them hours.”  His brothers stared in awe at the faux surroundings, Donatello’s hearing filled with strange noises and sirens, along with a din of chatter.  

     He reached out in front of him and made a few gestures with his fingers, the projection narrowing back on the stone cube, rectangles lighting up beneath its ground.  “We are going here.” One of the rectangles glowed orange, four red dots nestled inside its confines.  “All will be explained once we get there.”

 

_I have left you a gift, called a focus. It will help you navigate the world you have been brought into, and help you learn our past.  Simply place it over your ear, like this, and press its center.  Then you and I can speak again._

 

     They had reached a dead end, even though this was clearly the correct spot.  Smooth stone walls greeted them on three sides, the pitch darkness illuminated solely by the torch of Donatello’s focus.  They had reached the end, yet no prize was to be found.  “Leo, Raph, let’s go back upstairs and setup camp for the night.”  Michelangelo offered, sensing Don’s own depression at having been misled by his machine triangle.  “Don, we’ll be just upstairs, okay?”  The olive turtle nodded as his family retreated back the way they came, following the scratched outlines Don had left behind on the walls. He sulked in silence: he was told to come here, to uncover some great mystery that would help him and his family, to take great risks to reach this far, and all for what? For some buried tunnels? For a handful of scrap and a few old world trinkets?

     “I apologize for keeping you waiting, but protocol dictates we speak in private.” Donatello spun around, eyes widening at the projection standing behind him. It looked very much like himself, albeit far older, and with a long, white coat running from his collar to his ankles while keeping his front exposed.  Far from any sort of practical armor or clothing, yet it lended some strange air of authenticity to the image.  “I am designated D-zero-N-N-thirteen, but you may call me Donnie.  How should I address you?”

     Donatello swallowed hard, pacing around the image.  It stayed in place without moving, yet was constantly rotating to match where his vision was directed.  “I am Donatello. What are you?”  The figure looked like it was thinking, then shifted in form into a bemused grin.

     “Interesting. There was a 78.235% chance of you choosing that name.  One moment.”  Screens of information flicked by in front of Donatello’s vision, more ghostly visages created by the focus.  “User registered: Donatello.  Focus encryption key: verified.”  The menus and screens disappeared altogether, the torch on his focus shutting down.  The blackness of the tunnels lasted only a moment before the space was filled with a remarkably detailed projection, creating the look of some sort of old world medicine room.  “I am a neural network designated D-zero-N-N-thirteen, and I am here to answer your questions first and foremost.” The image casually strolled over to a glass cylinder and lifted it up, tossing it square at Donatello’s head, the image passing through him harmlessly.  “This is all a simulation, but my creator felt it may help explain concepts to you.  You cannot be harmed by anything displayed here.  Anything that is real, or may cause you harm…” A thick red glow covered Donatello’s body and all of his belongings, as well as outlining the dead end tunnel like a box.  “…will be outlined as such.” The glow disappeared from himself and his belonging, and began fading into a darker, less vibrant shade of red for the edges of the room.

     “Wow. That’s…is this old world technology?  Is this what our ancestors had?” He waved his hand through some of the projected furniture, and was surprised to see it move and react against his touch, though with no accompanying sensation.  “Amazing. Wait, why do we need privacy to speak? Why not show yourself earlier? Why-“

     “One question at a time, Donatello, and bear in mind that my function is tied to that focus of yours.  I’m sorry I cannot answer all of your questions, but that is not what I was programmed for.”  Donatello nodded, taking some time to think before coming up with the most obvious response for the ghostly visage.

     “Alright then.  Why am I here, er, Donnie?”  The visage smiled briefly back at him, then disappeared as everything went black once again.  The projection resumed with that turtle sitting on a chair, staring through him as if looking at something outside of his vision.  An icon of a sideways triangle appeared beneath the chair on the ground, turning into a pair of parallel vertical rectangles after a moment.

 

_Greetings. I’m sorry we had to meet this way, but circumstances dictated extreme measures.  My name is Donatello Hamato, and I’m one of the last living biological organisms on Earth.  I’m making this recording about a week after, well…after the end of the world, I guess.  By the time you see this message, it’s possible that over a thousand years have passed.  Maybe less, if Doctor Sobeck’s project succeeds in full, but I can’t tell.  Still, the fact you’re here and seeing this message is good news.  It means my own project worked, that you’re alive, that you learned the basic survival, defense, and intellectual skillsets needed to make it not just past your first year of life, but all the way from the Northampton facility to New York.  If that’s the case, well…wow. Just…wow. You’re incredible, and no matter what happens from here, you should be damn proud of yourself._

 

     Donatello caught himself pacing around the figure, examining the lines of age and pockmarks of stress dotting the turtle’s skin.  He looked weary, exhausted, and seemed to carry a sadness beyond measure.  The coat hanging from the turtle’s shoulders was dirty, torn, and covered in stains of varying colors, some of which looked far too much like blood.

 

_As I mentioned in the focus recording you saw upon waking up, you’re the backup project: a genetically modified duplicate of our combined familial DNA.  I only had four of us to work with, so I had to spend extra time running genetic code simulations that…never mind.  Long story short, you’re not a clone, but you’re not entirely original either.  You’re better equipped for the world ahead, whatever it might be, than I could ever be.  Which, turns out, was a smart move on my part, because my main project appears to have failed.  Miserably._

 

     The image shifted, a series of four, upright cylinders flanking the turtle in the center.  One of them appeared to be open, with tubes and wires dangling from various openings, a stark contrast to the other three that appeared to be smooth, neat, and clean.  Donatello found that one of the cylinders had appeared around him, and didn’t react to his presence as he stepped outside of it.

 

_The original plan was for all four of us to enter cryogenic stasis together.  Experimental, true, but there’s not many options when the world is depleted of oxygen and every living organic cell is consumed to fuel a robotic horde of killing machines.  I wished each of my brothers well as I sealed them in, and then did the same for myself.  Except it failed.  My unit failed, as did my auto-thawing process for if the planet recovered.  So, here I am, a dead man walking.  I was really hoping we might meet, but…sorry.  Guess that’s not in the cards._

 

     Donatello tried to imagine himself in the turtle’s position, using a last ditch effort to try and save his own brothers, only to not have any chance of joining them on the other side.  It was heartbreaking, placing all your faith in blind bets with no chance of success.  Yet, here they were, alive and well, in the heart of this ruined city.  Here he was, talking with a ghost of the old ones, as one-sided as the conversation was.

 

_Anyway.  The original reason I had you come here was to meet up with us.  To establish a colony of our own, preferably before humanity had a chance to rise up once again.  They’ll likely be more inclined to accept us after recovering from an apocalypse, hence the genetic alterations.  But when the auto-thaw process failed, I knew you’d be more important than I could ever imagine.  You alone can give my brothers either a chance at life, or a burial they deserve, if cryostasis failed entirely.  If they’re alive, I ask you welcome them into your family.  If they’re not, then…bury them beneath the light of the sun, as it’s the one thing we cherished as much as our family bonds.”_

 

     The cylinders faded from view, the turtle managing a weak smile up at the camera as he fished around in his coat pocket.  Donatello watched as the turtle pulled out some sort of metal contraption and eyeballed it nervously, his throat bulging as he swallowed.  Despite not knowing what the object was, he could guess what its intended purpose might be.

 

_I uh, I left you my library for your use.  Lots of books on technology, holograms, networking, medicine, mechanics, engineering, the works.  I also left you maps of our hideouts, lairs, and labs, though I doubt any of them survived.  Whatever you find, make use of.  Support your family, better your lives, and prosper.  I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to see you myself, but, uh…I gotta go.  Good luck._

 

     The turtle began raising the metal object under his chin and pressed it hard against his skin, Donatello watching his eyes wrench shut in anguish before the video cut out entirely.  Donnie appeared shortly thereafter, staring back at him with a disgustingly happy smile.  “Those are the final will and testament of my creator, Donatello Hamato.  New user options are available.  Scanning environment: ERROR.  User Donatello, I cannot read the environment for information.  Please advise.”

     “I don’t understand any of this.  What do you mean?  What do you want from me?”  Donatello licked at his dried out lips, a salty taste of tears prickling against his tongue at either corner of his mouth.  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Donnie.”

     “That’s what I’m here to help with, User Donatello.  You have three items on your to-do list, set by User ROOT.  Item One: revive Hamato family.  Item Two: retrieve focus devices for family members.  Item Three: Download archives to focus devices.”  Donatello paused, then let out a dark chuckle.  Of course this turtle, this past version of himself, of course he had thought of this, of him being so completely clueless about this ancient, old world technology.

     “Then let’s start at the top.  Let’s do Item One.”


End file.
